


Falling

by mvernet



Series: The Blond Beatle Affair [1]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mention of WWII, Mention of the horror of War, Romance, Songfic, Spy Stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:39:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6023944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvernet/pseuds/mvernet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon Solo meets Illya Kuryakin.</p><p>A Songfic inspired by The Beatles~ I've Just Seen A Face</p><p>A rare and funny early Beatles vid to set the mood.<br/>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vlYZ2NBRrmo</p><p>I was unable to find a youtube of "I’ve just seen a face" performed by The Beatles, but The Wings version is toe tapping.</p><p>I’ve Just Seen A face~~~Paul McCartney & Wings cover (Don’t sing, Linda. Clap and play your tambourine)<br/>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vVttIa20XjI</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling

Falling, yes I am falling  
And he keeps calling  
Me back again  
~The Beatles~

Napoleon Solo was thoroughly ticked off. His newest suit was ruined beyond repair. His latest mission had been a more like that comedy movie, _A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, World,_ than action-packed espionage. And now Waverly wanted him to meet a new agent in his office. If the old man was trying to saddle him with yet another moronic, just dropped off the turnip truck, rookie partner, he’d tell him where to shove it.

_Yeah, sure you will, Solo._

Napoleon was announced by Waverly’s latest beautiful and efficient female agent. There was something about a pretty girl with a gun neatly tucked in the rear waistband of her tight skirt that turned his head and turned him on. But today he wasn’t in the mood. The door to Waverly’s office swished open and Napoleon entered still scowling.

“Ah! Mr. Solo. Good of you to break free of whatever momentous thing you were working on and dain to join us.” No one did sardonic wit like Waverly.

The scowl melted into an insincere smile. “Not at all, Sir. It’s always a pleasure to see you. You know I find great joy in meeting our new agents.” Sarcasm was one of Napoleon’s specialities.

“Quite.” Waverly raised a hand and glanced at the agent who was staring out the window, hands held behind his back, rocking slightly back and forth on his feet. Napoleon reluctantly followed Waverly’s gaze. “May I introduce your new partner, Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin.”

Illya turned away from the window, giving Waverly a brief side-long glance and half a smile. He schooled his features, took a few steps towards Napoleon and extended his hand. Waverly sucked at his empty pipe in an unsuccessful attempt to hiding his apparent mirth.

Napoleon was overloaded with information and emotions before he could even turn on the charm and shake his fellow agent’s hand.

_Waverly’s having a good time at my expense. Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin, a Russian? What the hell? Play it cool, Solo. Cool? Look at him. So young. So slight. A regular little beatnik. That hair! What is he a blond Beatle? Those eyes! Oh, my. I could get myself lost in those eyes. He’s… he’s gorgeous! Oh, no. Cool, Solo. Cool. Cool._

They shook hands, briefly.

“A pleasure, Agent Kuryakin.” Napoleon turned on his most brilliant smile.

“Likewise, I’m sure, Agent Solo.” Illya’s facial expression was devoid of emotion. 

“Perhaps you can join me for lunch after this meeting. I could introduce you around. My treat, of course.”

“How kind, Agent Solo,” he nodded slightly. “Mr. Waverly informs me that I am due for a physical examination shortly, but after that. I believe I am free.” Illya looked to Waverly for confirmation.

“Yes, go now, Mr. Kuryakin. I’ll have Mr. Solo meet you at medical.”

“Thank you, Sir.” Illya gave Waverly a slight bow. “Agent Solo.” Another bow, and he was gone.

Napoleon watched Illya leave as Waverly watched Napoleon.

_Oooooo, that accent... and he bowed. Bowed! Be still my heart!_

Napoleon turned on his heels and confronted Waverly. “What’s really going on, Sir?.”

Waverly chuckled softly.. “Sit, down, son. And harken to an old man’s tales of a misspent youth.”

Napoleon smiled his rare genuine smile. He really admired Waverly, for all his grousing about him. Admired and even loved him. He would gladly die for him or, if the fates allowed, take his place when the time came. 

_I hope that time is a long time coming._

“You are aware that during WWII, I was an agent for the British Security Coordination.”

“I believe, Sir. You _were_ the BSC.”

“Huuumph. Be that as it may, I made a lot of enemies and a few good friends. I spent quite a bit of time on Russian soil. I knew Illya’s parents. His father saved my life. I was saddened when I heard of his father’s death. Naval officer, he was. Double agent if need be. I am not ashamed to say that Nicki Kuryakin was my best friend and I loved him. I had told him of my dreams to develop this agency. I had hoped to have my tovarishch by my side. Later, I was devastated to hear that his village, where his dear wife and children lived, was destroyed. I looked into it of course. I would have taken his children and raised them as my own. I thought all of his children were dead. But one little blond-haired rascal escaped unnoticed and survived.”

“Illya?” Napoleon asked softly.

“Yes.” Waverly crossed the room to his humidor and filled his pipe in earnest. Napoleon sighed and waited patiently for Waverly to compose himself and continue. He felt honored that the old man would trust him like this.

“A five-year-old Illya lived by his wits in a war-torn world. I can imagine the horror he’s seen. What horrors have been foisted upon him. He joined the Russian Navy, eventually, lied about his age. He was brilliant, spoke several languages already. Then the KGB recruited him. That’s when I found him. I began to secretly groom him to take his father’s rightful place. I had a very hard time convincing the KGB to let him go to Cambridge, my Alma Mater.”

Waverly dragged slowly and thoughtfully on his pipe, appearing lost for a moment in the mists of his memories. “He looks just like his father.”

“Sir. He’s so… young and small. Do you really think…” 

“Do not underestimate our Mr. Kuryakin. He does not know what I have told you, for his own safety. I simply told him I was introduced to his father during the war. To Illya, I am just another government official who wants to use him for my own gain. I think it is better that way. He is a skilled ruthless KGB trained agent, a munitions expert, a crack shot, a brilliant scientist. And my best friend’s lost child. I am entrusting you with his care, Napoleon.”

Napoleon looked at the old man in front of him. He was deeply moved. A fierce sense of protectiveness filled his soul for a shaggy-haired, skinny, Russian boy, once lost in a war, now a man lost in the wilds of New York City.

“You can depend on me, Sir.”

Waverly nodded and drew himself up. After the momentary lapse, he was back to playing his current role as hard, cold, Number One, Section One.

“Dismissed, Agent Solo.”

 

 

~~~O~~~

I've just seen a face  
I can't forget the time or place  
Where we just met  
He's just the one for me  
And I want all the world to see  
We've met, mmm-mmm-mmm-m'mmm-mmm

After a socially exhausting tour of U.N.C.L.E. with his new partner, Napoleon was ready for a liquid lunch. Many of his most beautiful coworkers had turned ugly right before his eyes, whispering “red bastard” and “commie lover” almost out of his hearing. If Illya heard, he didn’t show it. Illya didn’t show anything in those ice blue eyes.

But Napoleon’s faith in humanity was restored when Illya investigated the Section Eight labs. Sam, the oldest and biggest lab rat, had accepted Illya’s excitement at the state of the art lab equipment as a personal salute and the big tough black he-man had taken Illya to his ample bosom immediately. When Napoleon finally managed to pull Illya away from observing an experiment with a new form of nerve toxin, Sam gave Napoleon a warning.

“Don’t let him take a bullet for you, Solo. We need him down here.”

But Napoleon’s faith crumbled again when his least favorite Section Two agent, Dick Wayne asked Illya straight out if he remembered what side he was on. Napoleon lost it. He was CEA, Wayne’s supervisor. This was something he could do something about.

“Agent Wayne. I think you may need a week off without pay. You need to re-read your U.N.C.L.E. manuals. This organization is dedicated to _world_ peace. As in _all_ nations. If you have a problem with an international organization including a Russian Agent in its ranks. You best find yourself a job back in the fifties. Consider yourself…”

Illya touched his arm. “Napoleon,” he said softly. “I’m sure Agent Wayne was only hazing me. You know, new agent in the ranks? I can certainly stand a little… ummm…poking.”

Napoleon melted on the spot. “Do you mean… ribbing?”

“Da, da. This is correct, Agent Wayne, nyet?”

Dick Wayne quickly acknowledged the save. “Yeah, sure, pal. Just some harmless ribbing. Glad to have you on board, Kuryakin,” he hastily shook Illya’s hand and walked away..

Napoleon couldn’t believe what he had witnessed.

“Illya, I would have suspended him. I have the authority…”

“And then I would have a fellow agent, who might someday be in a position to save my life, wishing a stray bullet would end up in my head. This way he will tell his like minded friends that the red menace is a… cool cat, da?” Illya tugged at Napoleon’s sleeve. “Come, tovarishch, I am hungry. Is there perhaps a restaurant in this Big Apple of yours?”

Illya smiled.

Napoleon fell.

Had it been another day  
I might have looked the other way  
And I'd have never been aware  
But as it is I'll dream of him  
Tonight, di-di-di-di'n'di

Falling, yes I am falling  
And he keeps calling  
Me back again

Napoleon picked McCann’s, an Irish pub whose specialty was high-stacked corned beef on rye sandwiches and Guinness Stout on tap.

Napoleon leaned back in the booth and watched as Illya drank his second glass of foamy brown beer. Illya closed his eyes in bliss as he swallowed. He put down his glass and licked the tan foam off his lips.

“Thank you, Napoleon. I grew quite fond of dark beer in England. It is nice for a luncheon. But night calls for Stoli. Do you enjoy Vodka?”

“I’m more of an aged Scotch man, myself. Or on occasion a good champagne.”

“I’ve never tasted it.”

“What? Never tasted bubbly? I’m agast!”

“There are many things I have not yet experienced. I will try hard under your tutelage to indulge in them all. I fear I will become as self-indulgent and decadent as…”

“As me?”

Illya’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, nyet. Nyet. I did not mean to insult you, after all you… after you befriended...I...I…”

Napoleon watched his new, dangerous, self-assured partner searching for words. He touched his arm. “Illya, we are partners. I am going to trust you with my life. And I swear to you I will do my utmost to watch your back and keep you safe. I can stand a little… poking.”

Illya’s face suddenly became soft and his eyes filled with a sincerity that took Napoleon’s breath away. “I too, will do everything in my power to keep you safe and to… keep... your backside from harm.”

Napoleon raised his glass in a toast. He did not correct Illya’s phrasing.

“To us, partner.”

“Partners, yes to this I drink!”.

I have never known  
The like of this, I've been alone  
And I have missed things  
And kept out of sight  
But other ones were never quite  
Like this, da-da-n'da-da'n'da

Late that night, Napoleon sat by his fireplace in his luxurious, New York apartment. The fire he did not need to keep warm, bathing him in decadent heat. The Scotch in his hand, twenty-five dollars a bottle, nestled in his elegant manicured hand. He suddenly saw himself in a new light. He was grateful in a way he never had been before for the riches that surrounded him. Not just the material things, but for his freedom and the right to fight for it everyday. All because of a little, blond Russian who had fallen into his life and changed it forever.

Falling, yes I am falling  
And he keeps calling  
Me back again

He stared into the fire-warmed, amber liquid in his fine, leaded-crystal glass and recalled a few hours earlier when his new partner opened the door to his very first studio apartment. Napoleon watched in wonder as Illya unpacked his meager belongings, stacks of books and a cheap Japanese transmitter radio. Illya placed the radio on his very first kitchen counter and talked about his love of music. From British rock & roll to American jazz. He was animated and charming. Charmed. Napoleon was under his spell. Just before Napoleon left he jotted down his home phone number.

“Tomorrow, partner, we’ll get you a communicator and various other cool, spy stuff for your wardrobe. And I know a good tailor, so we’ll get you a new wardrobe, too. Call me if you need anything tonight. This is my home phone number,“ he placed a torn page from his U.N.C.L.E. issued notebook near the black rotary phone on a small table by the door. “Tomorrow I’ll set you up with a new security system. For tonight, keep the windows and doors locked. Make sure you…”

“Napoleon, I am a big tough, Russian spy. I am proficient in various martial arts, Bartitsu, as well as knife throwing. I will be fine.”

“Sure. Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“I will call if I need you, Napoleon. Thank you for your… kindness.”

Illya patted his shoulder.

Napoleon kept falling.

Falling, yes I am falling  
And he keeps calling  
Me back again  
Falling, yes I am falling  
And he keeps calling  
Me back again  
Oh, falling, yes I am falling  
And he keeps calling  
Me back again

~~~O~~~

TBC  
Stay tuned for more exciting Beatles Songfics starring Illya and Napoleon.  
The Blond Beatle Affair~~~series


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